


The Last Star of Andalir

by Elsin



Category: Original Work
Genre: ...admittedly not very space-y, Chosen Ones, Gen, space fantasy, space is more implied than depicted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-19 13:49:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22711813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elsin/pseuds/Elsin
Summary: It isn't easy to be the Chosen One, and sometimes it takes meeting your predecessor to learn all you need to know.
Relationships: Female Failed Chosen One & Female New Chosen One
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	The Last Star of Andalir

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosabelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosabelle/gifts).



Elya lay on her back in the dust, breathing hard. Above her Anklar’s sun shone brightly, and the heat beat down.

Her stemena pulsed in time with her heartbeat, and her fingers twitched involuntarily. It would only take an instant to summon Iphtala to her—

But no. She couldn’t do that. After all, that was the whole point of this.

So she slowly got to her feet. For a moment the world rocked around her, but she gritted her teeth and stood her ground and waited for the mountaintop to steady, which it did in a few moments.

“Good,” Anniki called from across the expanse. “You’re learning. I didn’t need to intervene at all that time.”

Elya scowled. Anniki had been at her since just past dawn, trying to get her to use anything but Iphtala in reaction to an attack, and somehow the older woman still looked unruffled and at ease. Elya, on the other hand, was covered in dust and beginning to tire.

Then Anniki said a word that rent the air, and Elya knew her recovery time was over.

A firebird rushed her, and it was all she could do to spin away from it. Even as she did that, she grimaced; her stemena had blazed when the construct passed her, and she knew that out in the world what she’d just done wouldn’t have worked.

Her hands itched to be holding Iphtala’s familiar hilt.

It didn’t help, of course, that the Twelve Heavenly Names were still locked under her tongue, and would remain there until she turned fifteen, more than two years away. Just for that she could almost hate the woman across from her—if not for Anniki, and what  _ she _ had done, Elya would have gained access to the Names when she’d turned ten.

But she didn’t have access, and there was still a firebird to be dealt with.

* * *

An hour and a half later, Elya sat in Anniki’s blessedly cool kitchen, hair still wet from her shower, dressed in clean clothes and drinking tsinafar juice.

“Here,” said Anniki, sliding a plate of foods that Elya didn’t fully recognize in front of her before sitting down on the other side of the table with a plate of her own.

It was to be expected that Elya wouldn’t know the foods. She’d only been on Anklar for a few days; most of her life had been lived on Nyanne, whose forests and mists and mountain spires were utterly unlike Anklar’s barren brown deserts.

Somewhat dubiously she picked up a round yellow fruit, and carefully bit into it; it was practically bursting with a rich, half-savory flavor she couldn’t fully identify. Across from her, Anniki had begun to eat as well.

“So tell me,” said Anniki as Elya bit into another strange fruit, “why the hell did the Council send you to see  _ me _ , of all people? I can’t imagine they’re at all happy with me.”

Elya managed not to choke, but it was a near thing, and she looked away from Anniki as she swallowed her mouthful. “They, ah, don’t exactly know,” she mumbled. “I couldn’t—I’m too  _ attached _ to Iphtala, they said. They wanted to take her away, they said, if I couldn’t get ahold of myself. And I—” She broke off, shaking her head. “I told them I’d handle it, if they’d just let me off-world for a while. So they did, and I came here.”

“And why me? Surely you know that I failed, in the end.”

She scowled. “Yeah, I know. But you didn’t—you could  _ do _ all the things you were meant to just fine. Better than fine. I know that—they don’t like to talk in front of me, but my ears are better than they realize.  _ You _ were going to be the greatest Star of Andalir ever, and I’m just—a substitute. And not a very good one at that. So I thought you’d know what I’m supposed to do.”

“I see,” said Anniki. Her voice betrayed nothing to Elya. She drummed her fingers lightly on the table, and sighed. “You’re not doing too badly,” she said eventually. “Honestly, I wasn’t expecting you to be able to suppress the urge to summon Iphtala nearly so quickly, considering how tightly you’re bonded.”

“What  _ were _ you like at my age, anyway?” asked Elya. She didn’t know if she wanted the answer to that, but she—she had to ask. “Did you get stuck on Iphtala?”

“I didn’t have her yet,” said Anniki. “They didn’t hand her to me until I turned sixteen. By that time I had enough other skills that it wasn’t an issue.”

“Oh,” said Elya, very softly. Iphtala was two rooms away, next to her makeshift bed, and even though she wasn’t fighting she ached to summon the sword to her side. Instead she just flexed her fingers, shook her head, and went back to eating.

“When did you get her?” asked Anniki.

“They let me hold her first when I was four, I think,” said Elya. “I bonded with her when I was seven.”

Anniki exhaled sharply, staring at her. “Gods above,” she whispered, and stood from the table to slowly pace about the room. 

Elya sank down in her chair. She didn’t  _ think _ she’d done anything wrong, but she wasn’t certain; Anniki wasn’t like anyone she’d ever known, and Anklar wasn’t like home either, and she swallowed heavily and found herself with Iphtala’s comforting weight suddenly in her hands.

Anniki paused in her pacing to look at her, and Elya had just enough presence of mind to push her plate aside before dropping her head down to rest on the table.

“I’m sorry,” said Anniki. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Elya stiffened, a little offended. She wasn’t  _ frightened _ —but Anniki was still talking. “It’s just that—I assumed they’d switched the unlocking of the Names and the bonding with Iphtala, I thought you would’ve been ten—has the Council of Guardians lost its  _ mind? _ There was a  _ reason _ I didn’t get Iphtala until I was sixteen. And you’ve done nothing wrong.” She sat at the table again, and shook her head. “Have they taught you Resonance yet?”

“No,” said Elya. “They—I’m supposed to let go of the world, first, and that includes Iphtala.”

Anniki was silent for a long moment, and then she sighed. “Kjara left after I did,” she said, “right. I can see why they didn’t want to teach you, then—it can be risky without an anchor-partner, if you’re just starting out, and Iphtala does complicate things. But if you want—I can show you. I think it might help.”

“That would be—that would be good,” said Elya. “And—thank you. For everything.”

“What are washed-out ex-Stars of Andalir for,” said Anniki lazily, waving a hand. “Finish your lunch, and we’ll see what we can do.”

Elya nodded and did so, eager to begin; without Resonance, after all, she’d never be a proper Star of Andalir. And maybe she wasn’t who the Council would have prefered; maybe she wasn’t the ideal candidate. But she  _ was _ to be the Star of Andalir now, and she was determined to do her absolute best.

She pushed away her empty plate, and turned to Anniki. “I’m ready,” she said.


End file.
